


She likes it when they share a pillow

by Pokypup49



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Cuddles, F/M, No Plot/Plotless, No Porn, Plot What Plot, Riza POV, cuteness, rate M for safety, short bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:22:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29826978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pokypup49/pseuds/Pokypup49
Summary: Rated M for suggested activity, but that's all.It's just a few moments that Riza and Roy shared a pillow.
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 16
Kudos: 62





	She likes it when they share a pillow

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the characters. I'm just fantasizing about how they'd be in my dreams.

She likes it when they share a pillow. She likes it when they are so close that their breaths sync and their warm bodies touch. She likes it when, for a second, nothing matters; how they can go on without rank or names but instead just known as a woman and a man, because that’s what they are. Their lives in all aspects flutter away with the kiss on her forehead, and she’s reminded of the simplicity of comforts with his hand resting on her hip. Her nose nuzzles his chin, an affectionate touch that makes him smile and bend his head down to kiss her nose. 

There aren’t very many moments like these, as many as one hand if she could count. But the ones that there’ve been, she’s cherished each breath they share on her pillow. He shows up, in casual form and style. He doesn’t bring flowers, food, or wine. On the contrary, he stands at her door with his hands in his pockets and a tilted head. 

“I hope I’m not intruding,” he says. 

He’s not and she tells him so. 

There’s no rush or urgency, but just a scene that unfolds with patience and due course. It is every time. She’s not usually drawn to his dark eyes. They weren’t one of his finest qualities if she had to rate them. But they were kind and soft as he let her pour him a glass of whiskey. He swirls the glass in the quiet air, watching the amber liquid swirl and mix with his ice. She pours herself some wine, sits down across from him, and watches his spare hand. She watches it because it’s not doing anything. 

“I was in the neighborhood,” he excuses himself. 

She smiles at his consideration, a normal excuse for him to knock on her door. It was likely the truth since he had a habit of taking long walks at night when he couldn’t sleep. 

He’d smile, softly, as if he was enjoying a view of the countryside; soft waves of grass and puffs of clouds in the sky. He looks at her with a calm contentedness that comforts himself. In turn, she smiles back at him. After all, his presence brought fullness to her little apartment. It wasn’t that Riza Hawkeye ever felt alone, but there was always room for company. 

The first time she asked him to stay. Her hands found his chest and she wished she could feel his heartbeat under her fingers. It might have been the influence of her second glass of wine, but she felt as if she wanted company longer than bedtime. With a kiss that filled her lungs, filled her need for affection, he agreed to stay. It’d never gone this far, never stretched past the quiet company with casual talk and light laughs. It wasn’t something they needed before, and she didn’t need it now. She wanted his company just a little longer. As the lights turned off, they didn’t find themselves awkward, fast, or impatient. On the contrary, he watched her change to her pajamas before disrobing to his boxers, and they shuffled onto her single’s bed. 

The second time was more obvious as his spare hand reached out for hers. His fingers played with hers as he admitted that he had trouble sleeping with the cold at night. 

“You have a heater,” she snorts a laugh. 

“But I don’t have you,” he whispers, his eyes burrowing themselves into hers. Suddenly, his eyes were a quality of his that she loved. Though it was his excuse for her company. She shouldn’t have let it get to her. She should have told him no. But she instead refills his glass and holds onto the feeling of being wanted in a way more than just a soldier. 

She leads him to bed again. He turned out the light behind them. As they curled up, with her body pressed against his, she felt him sigh with such softness, it could have been missed if she wasn’t attuned to him. She could smell his generic soap, knowing that he had showered just before going to her home. It was the same soap she used, and it was now the only soap that she’d ever use. 

The second time, his fingers found her hair, the kisses lingered for more than a second, and her heart beat in her chest as if she was in an exhilarating race of some sort. They weren’t though. Time was not the enemy. The kisses tasted of the whiskey he had sipped, and his breath was hot against her cheek. His body held a warmth to it, like a flickering fire, which she could easily find a place next to. Her hands explored his body, mapping it, memorizing everything from the sweat on his back to the ribs of his sides, his smooth chest, the stubble on his chin, and the casual fall of his hair. It was all within her reach and she never wanted to let it go. 

They broke the law. 

The third time was not planned, though from an outside source it could have looked like it. Weeks had gone by, and although she missed the intimacy, she went back to work with due diligence. None of it was going to deter her from her duty next to him, and he wasn’t going to let it distract him from his ambitions. The day went on without a glance or notion that they were thinking about each other. Then she mentioned that she baked a cake and was rather proud of herself as they packed up for the day. 

“I haven’t had cake made by you before.” He stood up and reached for his coat. “I wasn’t aware that you baked.”

“You’re welcome to try some, Colonel.” 

He did the dishes that night. They surrendered themselves, nothing needed but a soft sigh to complete the day. It was special to her because of the way he touched her. His fingers tickled her as they ran down her side, over her ribs, grazing her hip, to her knees, quickly followed by a kiss to her shoulder. It was nearly electrifying and she couldn’t hold in the quiet laugh, giving away her ticklish spots. 

He only smiled, lifting his fingers. “You know what velvet feels like,” he whispered in her ear. “Soft and addicting to the touch,” he continued. 

He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her back into his chest as they closed their eyes. Nothing was ever perfect in her eyes, but this met some sort of expectations she had. His hands reached for hers, grasping them in a soft hold, as he kissed the back of her head good night. In the hug, she felt safe. All her career she had dedicated herself to keeping him safe that she forgot that she needed it too. Suddenly it wasn’t back to back with him, but a surrender of herself to his embrace. It was going to be okay. 

This time it was suggested. She packed her bag, waiting for everyone else to leave. She turned to him, handing him his coat, and asked him to come over. He nodded and followed her out the door. There in her bed, their naked bodies pressed against each other as her nose rested against his collarbone. The silence was broken by his hums, the sound of his exhale when he sleeps. It wasn’t loud, but the apartment’s only other sounds were the creak from the neighbors walking around upstairs. They shared her pillow, so close there wasn’t room for air between them. If felt right, as if it was destined to be. They fit like two parted puzzle pieces which found each other after a year in a dark box in a drawer. 

She embraced the feeling. She let him kiss her forehead, let his fingers run down her arms, his nose smelling her hair. 

“This feels good,” she whispered. 

“Yes,” he replied without moving. “Good.”

She’d get up before he would, untangling herself from him before going to the shower. He’d be gone when she got out. There was no evidence. He made the bed perfectly and fluffed the pillows. It was so quiet that she didn’t even hear the door shut. That was how it was. The dark concealed their affair, the sun brought reality and the world they lived by. It’d be weeks till the comfort of his hug was felt again. It’d be weeks before she’d see his soft smile, admiring her from behind his whiskey glass and amber liquid. It might be months before she was able to see him outside her door with a crooked smile. 

**Author's Note:**

> Depression has its benefits I suppose. Instead of working on homework, which desperately needed to be done, I chose to write out what was in my head. I shared it with a friend and they begged me to do a Roy POV.... not sure if I will... I guess I will think about it. What do you all think? I hope that you all enjoyed it. Send me a comment if you did! I hope all of you have a wonderful day.


End file.
